Name That Snakeklok
by murderofonerose
Summary: The internet had assured Toki that a good trouser snake would earn him respect. So he got a pet snake what lives in his pants, and now it needs a name. PART OF A SERIES, please read the author notes first or confusion will ensue.


**Warning:** Contains pre-slash and a pet snake that lives in a man's trousers (no, seriously, it's literally a snake)  
**Pairing:** Pre-Skwisgaar/Toki  
**Words:** 1168  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, not even a pet snake. It's sadtimes.

Before you read this story!

Before you read this story!

Important thing you need to know: this is not exactly a contained piece. It's part of a story arc that I've been doing primarily in fanart comics. The links to those can be found on either my livejournal (murderofonerose dot livejournal dot com backslash 191339 dot html) or dA (murderofonerose dot deviantart dot com) accounts -- the former has them all in one list, in chronological order.

This is the eight installment in that story arc. It does have a picture in it, which I have, for the purposes of posting it here, replaced with text. I'll mark off where it goes in the story, and if you want to see it the link is (murderofonerose dot deviantart dot com backslash art backslash Name dash that dash Snakeklok dash color dash 135888091).

...

Okay, you can read the story now.

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Name That Snakeklok

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For the past few minutes Charles had been neatening and gradually collecting the papers spread out on the conference table in front of him as he talked, and though the band wasn't really listening they at least had their eyes open enough to recognize that soon he would stop nagging them about stupid financial shit.

But when he finally did stand up to leave, Toki blurted out, "I gots another business t'ing whats needs to be talksed about!"

Charles paused, ignoring the grumbles and complaints from the others. Though he doubted that this would turn out to be an actual matter of business, it was more or less his job to keep the boys happy – and he had a few minutes to spare before his next appointment to be indulgent. "Yes, what is it, Toki?"

"Well, I gots this snake now… But I don'ts know whats to names him."

"Ah." That again. Well, at least it wasn't forgot-the-paternity-waver-again-please-fix-it sort of business…

"Wait," Murderface butted in shrilly, "you've got a pet?"

At the far corner of the table Nathan stirred, perhaps just waking up. "Uh… you didn't know that? God, Murderface, you've got to pay more attention if you want to know shit…"

"Yeah, dood, he's been walking around with it all the teim," Pickles said, rolling his eyes. He sipped at his drink, glanced across the table at Skwisgaar's sour expression (which contained a good sixty percent more scorn and disdain than usual), and smirked.

"Schut up! No one told me about it," Murderface complained, with an expression befitting his name.

"Dat's because yous breath am smells bad," Skwisgaar snapped. "Just name de dumb dildos t'ing and gets it overs wit' sos I can go does somet'inkg actualsly ink-restinkg."

Charles sighed. He knew that if he stayed to witness this he'd only end up with a headache. "Well, I don't have any suggestions and you don't really need me for this, so." He turned to leave, then added over his shoulder, "Have fun."

As their manager left only Nathan bothered to say "Bye", but it was more out of habit than anything else and in a low distracted mutter, so it was a toss-up whether Charles heard it or not. Before the door had even swung shut, Pickles was already shouting out the first suggestion.

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_A/N: This is where the picture goes. It... works a little better visually, so the link again is _(murderofonerose dot deviantart dot com backslash art backslash Name dash that dash Snakeklok dash color dash 135888091).

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_"Phyllis!"

"Toki, TOKI! Name it RUFFLES! Like the chips!"

"Misshusch Garrett!"

"Snakey!"

"For... Forsnaken."

"Dexshter!"

"One-eye!"

"Python!"

"Loki!"

"Haley!"

"Doodles!"

"Yeti! Optimusch Prime!"

"Dood, Snakegaar!"

"Uh, noes. It can't ams have mine name."

"Sergent Slither!"

"Ha, dood, call it Explorer!"

"Marvin!"

"Fido!"

"Yoyo!"

"Leviathan!"

"Fred!"

"Hows about... Jörmungandr."

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_A/N: This is where the speech bubbles in the picture cut off._

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_

Toki blinked, surprised. He hadn't forgotten about the Swede's harsh declaration in the hot tub the other day. "Dat's… a good name isdea, Skwisgaar," he said cautiously.

Maybe the other guitarist had gotten over being a dick about the snake. Or at least bored with it. Toki was resigned, by now, to Skwisgaar never really approving of anything he did – the best he could hope for was ambivalence – but the reason he'd bought it in the first place was because the internet had assured him that a good trouser snake would earn him respect. And he desperately wanted Skwisgaar's respect.

"Ja, of course it ams good," Skwisgaar replied haughtily. "A billions time better den anys of Pickle ideas."

"Hey, feck ahf. At least I had more ideas'n you did."

Skwisgaar shrugged. "So whats? Qual-tities over… havsing lots of stuff, you knows."

"Ah, thet's creeap…"

"No, I'm pretty sure he's right, Pickles," Nathan said with a thoughtful scowl. "I'd rather listen to one really brutal song than a bunch of crappy songs. So, you know. If it's true about music it's probably true about anything."

"See, Nat'ans and Toki agrees wit' me." Skwisgaar leaned back in his chair like the smug bastard he was and glanced at Toki. "Dat ams what yous goinkg to names de dumb dildo t'ing, right?"

"Well…" Of _course_ he was. "If it ams what he likes, ja."

He didn't notice how closely Skwisgaar was pretending not to watch him as he reached down to retrieve the snake.

Murderface practically leapt over the conference table. "You have it with you?" He started making grabby hand motions that a preschooler would have been proud of. "Lemme schee!"

Toki ignored him, intent on coaxing the snake from his pants. "Come on yous little goofsball, you gots to comes out and let me knows what name you wants best…"

"Whatsh he got it in? I wanna schee— Ow!" Murderface yelped as Pickles' empty bottle hit him on the forehead, fell to the table and cracked, then rolled onto the floor and shattered. Rubbing the sore spot where it had hit him (which would be a spectacular bruise soon enough) he turned toward the drummer sitting next to him and glared. "What the hell wasch that for?!"

Pickles shrugged. "Yer starting to piss me off and I'm naught that good at hitting."

"It's weird how he… talks to it," Nathan muttered, apparently addressing this comment to Skwisgaar, who wasn't paying any attention to the frontman at all. "I mean, talking to a pet isn't… Just this one. It looks weird."

"I don't think weird is the reight werd fer it, dood," Pickles said. _He_ had noticed what Skwisgaar's attention was focused on, and wasn't waiting any effort trying to keep a straight face.

When Toki put the snake on the conference table, Skwisgaar looked pointedly away. In terms of pets (and a lot of other things as well), he preferred things he never had to get very close to or deal with personally, like the yard wolves or groupies…

That, and he just didn't like this snake.

The others watched with varying degrees of curiosity was Toki ran a finger over the snake's scaly head and back, stroking it. (Pickles found this particularly amusing, and bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.)

"Whats you t'ink littles guy? Jörmungandr sounds like a goods name?"

Tongue flitting in and out, the snake pushed up against his fingers and slithered closer to wrap itself around his wrist.

Toki smiled. "I t'inks he likes it!"

"He'd betters," Skwisgaar replied disdainfully, looking down his nose at the snake in a way that very clearly stated he felt himself so far above giving reptiles names that he may as well have been in outer space. But it _was_ a good name, and considering the size of his ego (which reached roughly the same orbit) he hadn't been able to pass up suggesting it.

He didn't care that the _snake_ liked it – he had some doubt as to whether the snake was even paying attention. That wasn't important. Skwisgaar knew that Toki was the kind of person who probably had imaginary conversations with his teddy bear, and could have taken anything the snake did as approval or disapproval as he liked. The snake could have pooped on the table, for Odin's sake, and that still could have been a yes as far as the younger guitarist was concerned as long as _he_ thought it was the best suggestion.

And Toki was one of the very few people Skwisgaar would get genuinely angry at for not acknowledging that he was the best. At everything. So this was acceptable.

For now.

Warning: Contains slash, or at least slash-if-you-squint  
Pairing: Ford/Arthur  
Words:  
Disclaimer: Is it really necessary to point out that I am not Douglas Adams? Is that what people really need? (I'm not even English and I don't even look like a Douglas.)


End file.
